


Catching a break

by this_isnt_my_darkest_fuckin_secret



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Affection, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Light Petting, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_isnt_my_darkest_fuckin_secret/pseuds/this_isnt_my_darkest_fuckin_secret
Summary: a whump character finally gets the well-deserved good turn he needed. please excuse that its bad, im new to writing
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Mark was pointedly ignoring how cold the dirt was under his knees, as he crouched over the small pile of kindling he had collected. He ignored the way his hands had begun to shake from the cold, numb fingers tightly gripping the flint and steel as he struck, and struck, and struck. A few times sparks would fly, but they just weren’t catching. He ignored the noises in the woods around him, keeping his mind off the gash on his arm he’d wrapped in a torn piece of his shirt, and the thought of whatever the next wild animal to encounter him might do. He was especially ignoring the way he could feel the beginnings of rain on the back of his neck, as his strikes grew more desperate, hoping he could at least get something of a fire to- 

A clap of thunder overhead had him glancing up, just in time to get a sudden rush of rain to his face as it went from a drizzle to a pelt, immediately crushing any hopes of maintaining a fire. 

He forced down the urge to yell out in frustration. The rush of hopelessness in his chest was only going to make him panic; he needed to focus on making it through the night as best he could now. He knew enough about survival to gather some leafy branches, trying to shake the excess rain from them as best he could, and make a tiny ‘shelter’ under the closest tree. The growing terror in him, as the idea he’d actually have to spend the night here set in, might have been enough for him to vomit, were there anything actually in his stomach to begin with. That was another thing he was trying to ignore.

Finally, Mark had to get on his hands and knees and creep into the pathetic makeshift shelter. It was no more than a few wet branches overhead; the pounding rain that had already soaked his shirt was dripping steadily through the cover, as Mark curled up into himself, keeping his wounded arm between his thighs despite the bitter pain. He told himself to only thing he could do now was try to sleep, but his mind just couldn’t stop whirling. He thought of how long he’d been gone – surely there would be a search party out for him by now, right? Someone would have noticed him missing. Somebody had to have noticed. They just had to.

.....what if nobody was coming?

He couldn’t help himself but think it. What if nobody had even realised he was missing? What if nobody cared enough to worry, just assumed he’d left without saying anything, and weren’t concerned where? 

He could... die out here.

He could die out here, alone, cold, terrified... What if he never saw another person again? He was only twenty...  
Mark was hyperventilating now, feeling the hot tears falling sideways across his cheek as he began to cry, bitterly. All the dread and anguish of his situation finally flooded through, overwhelming and painful. He was fucking twenty, and he was alone, hurt and cold and starving, terrified, lost...

Alone, for what could have been his last night on earth, Mark’s breathing finally slowed as the exhaustion took over and he fell into a deep, helpless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chicken and mushroom soup sounds so fuckin good right now
> 
> im literally gonna go make myself a bowl of soup

.....

Drifting between sleeping and waking, Mark didn’t have the energy to move - he didn’t care. He only twitched, nuzzling into the warmth against his face as he drifted off again.

.....

The second time, Mark awoke just enough to be extremely confused as to what was going on. The warmth around him seemed to be coming from a large dark figure above him, carrying him easily in it’s arms. Had Mark been any less delirious, he’d have likely screamed at the realisation he was being taken somewhere by a stranger. As it was, he barely shifted enough to feel something soft covering him before the pull of sleep became too much again.

.....

The third time Mark woke, the flood of memories of what had happened caused him to yell and sit up suddenly. For a few good moments, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

He was shirtless, inside a large sleeping bag, laid just across from a crackling fire, illuminating a clearing in the woods around him where someone had clearly set up camp. There was a pot over the fire, a small tent, a duffel bag slumped nearby, and-

Mark’s blood ran cold at the sight of the stranger. So it had been real; he’d been carried here, by the man now leant against a nearby tree. He could hardly see his face from here, but could tell he was a fairly big guy, bigger than Mark was at least. For a second the stranger met his gaze, before Mark quickly looked away, not sure if he should speak up or just try and run. As it happened, he didn’t need to worry about speaking up first, as the stranger opened his mouth.

“Welcome back. How you feelin’?”

The stranger’s voice was deep, gravelly, and yet he spoke with an air of genuine concern that Mark only found more strange. He tried to speak, but it was like nothing would come out. He found himself doubly reminded that he was shirtless– he noticed a leather jacket just behind him in the sleeping bag and shrugged it quickly over his shoulders before he was able to focus on a reply.

“I... uh, Hello...” he began, looking around again and spotting his torn shirt, hung up near the fire too dry.

‘’You gave me a hell of a fright, y’know,” the tall figure continued, his tone still perfectly calm.

“I mean hell, I thought I’d gone and found a dead man, all curled up in the undergrowth there. You’re lost, I assume.’’

“I got, uh... yeah, I got stuck out here and... I’m injured, and I’m...” Mark’s voice came out too faint, betrayed too much; he quickly fell silent again, having a strong feeling the stranger already knew all of this already.

When the figure moved forward, Mark’s heart lurched horribly and he flinched back, but the man only leant over the pot on the fire, checking it before he glanced up and met Mark’s eyes. In the glow of the fire, Mark could finally take in his face – Dark-haired and broad, with a scruff of beard and deep brown eyes that... well, that honestly seemed like he didn’t want to hurt him. 

Mark still couldn’t trust this stranger any more than he could throw him, but the warm sleeping bag, and the calm voice, and the kind eyes, and most of all the gorgeous rising smell of whatever was in that pot were all starting to thaw at the original terror in his stomach.

Speaking of that rising smell, whatever it was must have been done cooking, as the man lifted it off of the campfire and to the ground, leant back to rummage through the duffel bag behind him, and produced a metal bowl, that he poured about half the food into. He shifted forward again on his knees, placing the bowl of hot chicken and mushroom and a spoon in front of Mark, who just watched, silent. The stranger took another spoon from the bag and, noticing his guest’s hesitance, he began to eat from straight out of the pot, indicating it was safe.

Mark could only bear watching him eat a few spoonfuls of the hot soup before he caved; his throat burned as he swallowed too fast but he didn’t care. It was amazing – rich and filling, full of juicy chicken and thickly sliced mushrooms – the two young men were silent for a number of minutes, nothing but the crackling of the fire and the sounds from the woods between them, before the stranger thought to pause and speak. 

“My name is TJ, by the way. I can help you get back to other people - we’re only ten to fifteen miles out from town, I think, but I don’t have a cell phone, so we’re gonna need to spend the night here.’’

Mark, who was scraping the bottom of his bowl, looked up at this.  
‘This guy – uh, TJ,’ he thought, ‘can’t be serious. Who the hell doesn’t take a cell phone camping?’ 

“I have some anti-bac for that cut you got. A real bandage, too. But, uh...’’ TJ trailed off, voice low and seeming slightly embarrassed, “that is my only sleeping bag.’’  
...

“Oh.’’  
...

“Any other time I’d offer to sleep on the ground, but -”

“Oh, no I-I understand, it’s just... ”

Mark looked down, face red as he realised he’d be sharing the sleeping bag with TJ. Large as it was, he knew this would be awkward.


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ngl mark's a whore

TJ seemed to realise this too. He looked away again, almost sheepish, before suddenly he was rummaging through the duffel bag again, this time for a large thermos. He took a large swig and gulped – Mark watched his adam’s apple bob a little – before he offered the flask over. 

Mark was, at this point, beyond caring, but when he tipped up the flask and drank in what he’d expected to be normal hot chocolate, the kick of strong liquor nearly made him cough. He hadn’t expected anything that harsh.

“Oh, sorry,” TJ said, “I uh... I don’t actually have anything that’s not spiked right now. Keeps you warm, y’know?”

Mark actually laughed. He almost surprised himself with how much more comfortable he felt now – it was like the universe had finally thrown him a break in the form of this random traveller and his stupid handsome face, and he was going to enjoy it while he could. He wasn’t even thinking about if he was going to be murdered anymore.

He drank again before passing the flask back too TJ, disregarding the small smile on his face, or how red his cheeks were starting to feel from all the heat and food and drink as he did.

He and TJ began to speak more freely as the thermos of heavily spiked hot chocolate started depleting. Mark told TJ the whole story of how he’d found himself lost, how he’d been stumbling through the woods for about a day or two. He got to the part where he’d had to fight off an animal when TJ cut him off, saying he’d completely forgotten about his injury. 

He set aside the nearly-empty thermos, produced a few small things from the bag and shuffled over closer to where Mark was sat, indicating for him to show the wound.

Mark was hesitant, but slowly slid TJ’s leather jacket down his arm to show the gash. It was a nasty cut, stretched long across his forearm, some blood still dried on the skin around it. TJ didn’t really have to warn Mark that the disinfectant would sting, but he did anyway. More surprisingly, he grabbed a hold of Mark’s hand to squeeze it as he pressed the cloth down – this helped in a way, as Mark suddenly felt a rush of embarrassment at the contact, distracting him a little from the awful sting.

It was awkward as TJ pulled his hand away again to begin wrapping the wound, but now that Mark had started becoming aware of the touching, the whole process suddenly felt very... intimate. He had to wrap almost the whole forearm in the gauze, holding it out in such a way that Mark couldn’t help feeling flustered over. Surely that was just the liquor thinking.

Surely it didn’t take that little human affection for him to completely fall apart.

Surely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is some absolutely foul, unchristian stuff here. id be less embarassed posting hardcore porngràphié than this tender shit. i could barf. anyway enjoy

The fire was dwindling, slowly chewing up the last of the wood with a gentle crackling before TJ or Mark actually had the courage to initiate the whole ‘sharing the sleeping bag’ thing.

It wasn’t as if Mark was some blushing teenage girl; he tried to tell himself that he and TJ were both guys, and that to spend this kind of cold, wet night without a sleeping bag was crazy anyway, and that nothing was weird about sharing a sleeping bag with an incredibly attractive stranger who had just happened to come across you half dying in the woods and save your ass. 

And that TJ wasn’t ‘incredibly attractive’. What? No way. C’mon. It wasn’t like he was a tall, fairly muscular stranger with a deep voice, and kind eyes, and a cute laugh, and his hands weren’t hot, and he wasn’t currently poking with the fire with a stick in said pretty hand while leant back, cheeks red from laughing and looking pretty tipsy for someone who supposedly would’ve had that flask all to himself out here, as he was camping alone like a psychopath, and...

Mark was fairly tipsy too, he reminded himself; not fully drunk, but he could feel that warmth in his stomach and his head, and he felt light from having laughed and talked with TJ, and... admittedly, from the thought that eventually he was going to climb in beside him in the sleeping bag. 

He thought for a second about how crazy it was that a few hours ago, he was laid alone in the woods, sure that he was going to die there.

Glancing over again, he noticed TJ having gotten closer to the slowly dying fire. He was still wrapped in the warmth of the sleeping bag and TJ’s jacket, but he realised that TJ had been sitting all this time in just his thin sweatshirt, and he must be freezing right now. Mark felt himself go red in the face as he worked up the courage, but he finally spoke up about it.

“You look kinda cold. Do you, um...” he made a vague ‘come hither’ gesture at the bag.  
TJ blinked before responding.

“Oh... uh, yes. Ok,”

He seemed hesitant too, but more out of politeness than horniness, Mark thought to himself, embarrassed, as TJ leant forward to pack a few things away for the night. 

When he stood, it actually dawned on Mark how much taller he was. “Holy crap,” he thought, “this guy has to be like 6’4!”

Had TJ heard this, he would probably have laughed and corrected Mark, as he was actually only 6’2 and a half, and made a joke that Mark just isn’t as tall as he thinks he is.

“Hey, uh...” Mark was distracted from his thoughts by TJ, who was holding the button of his jeans with a conflicted look on his pretty face.

“Is it alright if, uh. Y’know,” he continued, gesturing at the jeans and then the sleeping bag, his voice having somehow lowered even more with the slight slurring of liquor.

“Oh, uh, yes, yeah it’s ok,” Mark responded, surprised and a little embarrassed by the clumsiness of his own reply.

...

TJ slowly got out of his boots, and then jeans, and shucked his sweatshirt over his head, all as Mark tried his best not to openly stare, and finally he stepped over to the sleeping bag. With Mark’s help opening it, the two of them awkwardly laid in it together.

Mark’s skin tingled as his cocoon of warmth was disrupted a little, and he flushed bright red with the proximity of them both. This had to be the single most embarrassing moment of his life. He was hyperaware of every tiny touch between them, not sure whether to shy away from them or act like he didn’t notice anything. 

TJ, however, must’ve been drunker than Mark first assumed; it didn’t take long for him to nuzzle in, pressing himself against Mark’s torso in a way that made his heart start racing.

“M’sorry...” came his voice, a low, sleepy drawl, “is this ok...?”

Mark was...

Mark was too lost in the feeling of him pressed up close to think about stupid shit like common sense, or modesty, or the fact he’d known this guy all of 6 hours, and he’d hardly had enough to blame the alcohol. 

He rolled over and wrapped his arms around TJ, who responded with a slight grunt of surprise before reciprocating.

...God, he’s warm...


End file.
